


Captivate and Mesmerize

by UntoldHarmony



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-07 01:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UntoldHarmony/pseuds/UntoldHarmony
Summary: She was captivated by the marks on his skin. He was mesmerized by her. It all started with the lily and then it led to something more. - Pure fluff Harmony in two parts inspired by a simple question: What tattoos would Harry get?





	1. Part One: Captivate

**Author's Note:**  Inspired by a question posted on the Harmony & Co. Writing Locker Facebook group:  _What tattoos would Harry get?_  Here's my answer.

* * *

**Part One: Captivate**

**Captivate**  ( _verb_ )  
to attract and hold the attention or interest of, as by beauty or excellence; enchant

* * *

It started with the lily. It was simple, delicate, vibrant. The flower was completely in bloom; its petals and sepals - six in total - opened to the sky creating a soft cloud of cream which cradled the bulby filaments. A delicate stem peeked from behind the petals and extended towards his fist with three leaves peppering the trail. It reminded her of summer, of the time when her dad would plant those same flowers in their beds to please her mum. It brought back memories of her younger self peeking through their kitchen window to track the flowers' growth day by day. She could almost smell their sweet scent when she looked at the rendering on his skin.

It was no longer than the length of the ballpoint pen she was chewing at when she first glimpsed it. There she was at the library of the restored Godric's Hollow (she and Ron had full access to the estate, of course), minding her own business and doing her work with the aid of the vast collection of books he had collected over the years, when she heard an apparition pop. She thought it was Ron who came back because he had left something behind (as was typical of Ron to be forgetful and her other best friend was away for work and not due to come back 'til a week later) so she came out into the foyer to greet him and help him in his search. She padded down the halls barefoot with the pen in her mouth and her thoughts trying to connect ideas for her latest Ministry project when she saw him and she saw  _it_.

He was facing her though his head was bent down looking at the mobile phone on his right hand. His left arm was hanging loosely by his side so she saw the mark on his inner arm but wasn't quite sure what it was. Did he burn himself? Did he get hurt during his trip? She was about to run to him to check when the phone in her pocket chimed with the tone that was saved especially for him.

_Here comes the sun_

_Doo doo doo doo ~_

His head snapped up as the familiar Beatles song echoed through the halls of Godric's Hollow and a smile so bright illuminated his face. His arms fell open to take her in between them. But instead of hugging him, she grasped his left forearm and the pen fell from her parted lips when she gasped in worry.

"Harry! What is this? Did you hurt -" She turned quiet when she saw the ink lily on his skin.

He gently rested his hands at the sides of her hips and turned his left forearm up so she could better see the flower. He gave her a lopsided grin. "You worry too much, Hermione. It's just a tattoo."

_Just_  a tattoo? Hermione thought as she felt her mouth go dry at the sight of the flower. It stunned her. She didn't know Harry was the tattoo-getting type, not that she had any problems with tattoos. She just never  _expected_  her best friend to get one himself. They're so  _permanent._ She couldn't even  _imagine_  deciding what tattoo to get for herself since she didn't know what she would want on her skin for quite literally forever.

At her stunned silence, Harry's grip tightened on her hips and he bent down to level his eyes with hers which were still trained on his forearm.

"Are you okay, Hermione? Do you like it?" He asked. Her eyes glazed and she brought her hand down to trace the tattoo with an index finger.

Did she like it? My goodness, yes… yes she liked it. It was so captivating for it created such a startling contrast. The tattoo was so delicate, so exquisite. It was so lifelike that her fingertips gently traced its pattern for fear of breaking one of the petals. Harry, on the other hand, was anything  _but_  delicate. He was so  _strong_. Years of Auror training, not to mention the years leading up to the war, made him that way. He was tall, muscular, capable. The fragile flower inked on his firm forearm was such a juxtaposition. And Hermione smiled, because it was also another testament of how sure and confident Harry was of himself. He willingly chose a  _flower_ , something so delicate and soft and what many perceived to be a sign of femininity, to be on his body forever. Hermione was amazed and simply captivated.

"I do, Harry. It's…  _beautiful._ But why did you get a tattoo?" Hermione asked. Of a lily? She silently added. She had an idea but she wanted him to confirm.

He smiled at her and drew her further in an embrace with his right arm and extended his left so the tattoo would remain visible. "I wanted to be reminded of the people I loved and the people I've lost. I know it's permanent but that's part of the reason. Even if mum isn't with me right now, her memory will stay with me forever."

Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes. "Oh Harry…"

"It's been eight years since the war, you know." Harry whispered. Hermione nodded mutely and buried her face into his chest. The tattooed arm snaked around her to hold her firmly in place. "We lost so many people during the war and the years leading up to it. I'm… I'm  _okay_  now. I  _know_  that I've healed." Harry said and Hermione remembered. She remembered how destructive he was after Voldemort fell. He was so volatile, so depressed. Part of the reason, as his mind healer told him and he told her, was something called "survivor's guilt". He felt guilty that he lived through the war while so many perished. Harry thought that so many of his beloved friends and family were gone from this world because of him. But like he said, he healed. Years of therapy and Auror work plus support from friends like Hermione and Ron drove him out of the darkness and back into light. "I know it's not my fault that they died, Hermione. I know that now. But I still want to remember. I loved - no,  _still_  love them - so I don't ever want to forget."

She knew then and there she had fallen in love with his tattoo.

Hermione nodded her head and hugged Harry equally as hard. Through her tears and runny nose, she said, "Then it's perfect, Harry. It's the perfect reminder to have with you all the time. It's beautiful."

Harry gently pried her from her chest and brought up his left hand to wipe the tears away. She could see the inked lily at the corner of her sight. He gave her a lopsided grin and those eyes, the emeralds with gold and amber flecks, only got brighter. "The lily is only the beginning Hermione," he said almost slyly. "There will be more."

Hermione felt herself grin and nodded with dampened cheeks. "Then I can't wait to see them."

* * *

Next came the stag, and the moon, and the star. She was away to France for a business trip as was typical of her role as the head of Magical Research at the Ministry. She came back to London not at all happy since the talks on continued cooperation between her department and that of the French fell through.  _Les imbéciles_ had such ridiculous terms for the agreement and wouldn't settle on a compromise! She hated politics.

She also had a fight with her boyfriend, Lukas Simon, minutes before she took the international portkey back to London. He had been wanting her to meet his parents since they have been dating for the past six months but she had to cancel on him. Granted, this was her  _second_  time cancelling dinner with the Simons at their estate in Cambridge, but work rang. Since this deal with the French equivalent of her department fell through, her workload almost doubled. He wasn't impressed and vocalized that when she called him on a two-way mirror but what could she do? Her work was important to her and she had a lot of damage control to see through! Besides, it's not like his parents  _knew_ they were supposed to be meeting her for the weekend since Lukas insisted on surprising them. So really, no harm done and she could go meet them later.

Since she wasn't in any mood to face her boyfriend who was probably waiting for her in her flat, she went to the only place where she could get away from it all. After arriving at the Ministry and checking her mail, she apparated straight to Godric's Hollow.

It was uncharacteristically hot in Britain that day so cooling charms were on full blast throughout the house. She was thankful for this and it was the assurance she needed that the homeowner was indeed home. She ditched her cloak and shoes and walked through the halls in search of her best friend. She so badly wanted to hop into the shower and change into more comfortable clothes than the dress suit she was wearing but she wanted to see Harry first. After going through the usual suspects of rooms he could be in and not finding him in them, Hermione decided to check the backyard.

The backyard stretched to a forest which was a godsend for the Quidditch-loving Auror. He had Quidditch hoops built at the far end of the yard nearest to the trees. A quick glance upwards and Hermione spied a figure on a broom flying high above the ground. She couldn't see very well since the sun was shining into her eyes, so she called Harry down and saw the broom start its descent towards her. She stepped foot onto the grass from the glass door separating the inside from the outside and waited for her best friend to arrive.

Harry Potter gracefully touched down on the grass and her mouth went dry at the state of him. He was wearing denim trousers and… well, that was it. The heat of the April sun encouraged the Auror to remain shirtless as he was flying on his broom. Sweat glistened at the top of his brows, his temples, at the column of his throat, and down to his bare chest and abs and underneath those trousers too. He gave her a huge grin before he slung the broom onto his shoulder and started his walk towards her.

"Hermione!" He said in greeting, and dropped the broom to the ground when he was in front of her. "I'd hug you right now but I don't think you want to get all sweaty. How was your trip to France?" He asked with a grin, and his right arm instinctively moved on its own to run his hand through damp hair.

That was when Hermione saw it. It was quite a large mark on his right deltoid and her eyebrows squinted as she tried to make sense of the shape. "It was  _actually_  terrible and… Harry, what  _is_  that?" She asked.

He looked at her confusedly before noticing her unwavering and piercing gaze on his right arm. He gave her a grin before touching his right hand to his left shoulder and turning his torso slightly to give her a full view of the new ink on his muscled arm. "I got a new tattoo," he said.

Yes, he did indeed. Hermione gulped as she looked at the ink. It was a larger tattoo than the lily on his forearm and so,  _so_  intricate. A stag's head was at the forefront and its antlers were long and winding as a clear depiction of its age. Its eyes were bright and wise and peeked through the meticulously drawn fur all over its face and ears. Cradled between the buck's antlers was a full moon shaded darkly except for a silhouette of a lone star shining brightly in the night.

It was an homage to the  _true_  Marauders. It was Prongs, Mooney, and Padfoot. It was the father figures Harry had in his life whom he had lost along the way. The image was utterly captivating. As Hermione looked, her mind immediately spun a tale about a stag walking through a forest in the dark with only the moon and star guiding him on his way. Hermione felt like she could get lost in the illustration.

Hermione's hand itched to touch it. She so badly wanted to trace the ink with her finger, to know everything about the depiction of the stag, moon, and star. She wanted to know every dip of the muscles underneath that picture too, and... Stop it Hermione, she chastised herself quietly. Ogling her best friend's tattoo especially while he was shirtless was quite inappropriate. She drew her hands to a fist and forced herself to look away from the ink.

"It's absolutely beautiful, Harry," she whispered. "Marauders?"

He smiled, nodded, and relaxed his stance. He grabbed his shirt which was discarded on a chair in the backyard and put it on. Hermione was almost sad that the shirt covered his new tattoo. He approached her and gave her a one-armed hug and he steered her back inside his home.

He settled her into a couch in the living room and  _Accio_ d a cold drink for the two of them. She tucked her legs underneath her bum and settled herself in Harry's arm as was natural for the two of them. "You were saying that your visit to France was  _actually_  terrible? Do I need to hex someone, Hermione?" He asked with a grin.

It was the invitation she needed to launch into a tirade about the French head of Magical Research. Harry nodded and supported her ramblings with "Uhuh"s and "How dare they"s as she told him the headaches and pain points of her trip. After about an hour of much-needed ranting, Hermione finally was able to breathe easily and settled her head on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered.

He squeezed her tightly and kissed the side of her head. "No problem at all, Hermione. What are best friends for?"

Hermione didn't know why that comment made her so uneasy.

She apparated home later that evening after dinner with Harry to see her boyfriend waiting silently on her couch. She was startled to see him there and vocalized that but he only stared at her with stern eyes.

"Where were you?" He asked her silently.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at his demeanor and harsh tone. "Well, good evening to you too Lukas. And I was at Godric's Hollow."

Lukas Simon let out a bitter laugh which stunned Hermione. " _Of course_  you were at  _Harry_ 's. When were you ever going to put  _me_  ahead of him, Hermione? Am I not as important?"

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Just what are you on about? He's my -"

" _Best friend_ ," Lukas bellowed, raising from the couch. "Yes, I know as I've heard that a  _million_  times before! But  _I_  am your  _boyfriend_." Hermione gasped. This was the angriest she had ever seen him.

"Lukas,  _calm down_. What are you so angry about?" Hermione asked. She took a step towards him but he raised a hand in front of him.

"I  _can't_ , Hermione. I can't do this anymore. I can't be second best. I can't be second string. I know where your priorities lie and it's  _not_  on me or on  _us_ ," he said harshly, running a frustrated hand through his blonde hair.

At his words Hermione felt tears of confusion building in her eyes. "Lukas,  _what_  are you going on about? Let's just… let's just be calm and talk this through," she said.

He shook his head fiercely. "No, I'm sorry. I'm done. I can't wait for you to realize what you really want," he said. "Goodbye, Hermione." And with that, he apparated from her flat.

Hermione's head reeled as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She looked awestruck at the now empty place by the couch. Numbly she walked to her bedroom and changed into her night clothes before securely wrapping herself in her blanket. She didn't know what to think and her confusion overclouded the hurt she felt by being  _dumped_  by her boyfriend. Just what did Lukas mean? Harry was her  _best friend_. They've been through hell together. Of  _course_  Harry was important to her. But that doesn't mean Lukas was unimportant to her. Maybe… maybe he just wasn't  _as_  important to her. But she wanted him! Of course she wanted him otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to date him. So what did he mean by her not realizing what she really wanted?

Hermione drifted off to sleep that night with dreams of secure arms wrapped around her marked with a stag, a moon, and a star.

* * *

Over the next few months, Hermione became consciously aware of Harry's body. Or rather, she became aware of his tattoos. Because every time she would see him after an extended period of time apart, he almost always had  _something_  different inked on his skin.

She saw some of them in full, such as the small Firebolt on the side of his left index finger and the depiction of an owl flying - Hedwig, no doubt - which was added just above the lily. Some of them she could only glimpse in pieces and left her wondering what the full picture was. There was a lick of fire circling his left bicep but the ink extended underneath his clothes. It would be inappropriate of her to ask him to take off his shirt so she could see all of it so Hermione was left burning holes on Harry's left arm as she tried to  _imagine_  what that particular tattoo was.

It had become a sort of past time for her; something she would do when her mind couldn't concentrate and her thoughts drifted to her best friend. His tattoos were just too damn captivating,  _especially_  the fire! Was it a dragon's firey breath? Perhaps it was a Horntail unleashing its terror into the night. Or maybe it's  _just_  fire? Harry  _was_  allowed to get any tattoo he wanted; it doesn't have to hold any significance. Maybe it's just a design he really liked?

Hermione had so many questions about his tattoo but she kept them all to herself because  _really_ , she shouldn't be so nosy. He would show her his tattoo if he wanted to and so far, he had shown no inclination of doing so with this one.

But why couldn't she stop wondering? Why couldn't she stop thinking about his tattoos and thinking about, well,  _him_? She tried to tell herself it was simply her curiosity that kept her up at night with thoughts of her best friend. That was the easiest thing to do since thinking otherwise would mean there was  _something_  she was unaware of and she couldn't have that. So, Hermione let herself think unabashedly about Harry and his tattoos because she was  _curious_.

* * *

And then there was an attempt at Harry's life.

It had been years since the war, but dark wizards (some new and some old from Voldemort's reign) and unruly witches still existed. The Auror office and Harry have worked tirelessly to capture all Death Eaters but some still remained on the loose.

One afternoon, a particular Death Eater who had escaped after Voldemort's demise eight years ago decided to show his face and finally kill Harry Potter. Walden Macnair, whose fate remained "unknown" after the Battle of Hogwarts, disguised himself as a new Ministry of Magic lift operator to try and end Harry's life. It was known that Harry worked at the Ministry as an Auror, and he had in fact become even more famous because of it. His successes of sending dark wizards to Azkaban often made the papers so everyone knew what Harry Potter was doing for a living. And, if one had wanted to kill him such as the case of Macnair, the easiest way to do so would be at the Ministry.

He knew it would almost be like a suicide mission. But honestly, Macnair did not give a fuck. He was tired and so  _furious_  at what he had been reduced to over the past eight years since Harry bloody Potter defeated the Dark Lord. The Macnair family was a noble line of purebloods during Voldemort's reign. They had prestige, power, and  _money_. All of that was taken from his family, from  _him_ , by that little fucker after the war. God, he hated Harry Potter so much as well as his mudblood and mudblood loving friends. They sickened him.

For eight years, Macnair ran and hid and stayed away from wizarding communities to escape being caught. Living with Muggles, those lesser beings, made him even more furious. It fueled his rage and he spent countless sleepless nights devising a plan that would bring him and his family retribution.

He thought it was fate when he learned his nextdoor neighbour in the dingy little flat in Muggle London turned out to be a wizard. Moreover this neighbour, one Joe Colton who was only nineteen years of age, would soon start work at the Ministry of Magic as a lift operator. He knew all this because Joe came home one night drunk after a night of celebration for getting the job. Macnair happened upon him outside his door trying to get in when the younger man drunkenly slurred a good evening to Macnair. Macnair sneered in disgust, but the boy continued rattling on about the cause of his celebration. Other Muggles would have dismissed this as drunken talk, but Macnair's interest was peaked when he heard "Ministry of Magic" in the boy's words. So, Macnair showed false kindness towards the boy and befriended him. And his plan came to fruition.

It was simple. He would kill the Mudblood (Macnair later learned of Joe's heritage, much to his disgust), take his wand, and disguise himself as him. Then, he would go into the Ministry of Magic as Joe Colton and do his job as a lift operator. And when Harry Potter comes strolling towards the lift as he was bound to do eventually, Macnair would kill him. He considered what spell to use. The Killing Curse would be most efficient but he had been stewing over the years and had created and added new curses to his arsenal. Harry Potter would suffer one way or another.

Joe Colton was killed the morning he was to start his new job at the Ministry. Macnair used the  _Avada_ on him since he wanted to do it quickly. He had considered brewing polyjuice to truly disguise himself as the boy, but had thought against it eventually. The potion was costly to make and he didn't know how long he needed to be given an opportunity to go in for the kill. Besides, Macnair thought he had changed a lot physically over the years. He was more muscular now with his hair longer. A bar fight yielded him a broken nose too. No one would be paying attention to a lift operator, so all he needed to do was keep his head down until he saw Harry Potter. He dressed in the uniform, pocketed his wand carefully, donned the stupid hat which was part of the uniform, and headed out towards the Ministry of Magic.

The morning was busy, as was typical for a Monday at the Ministry. Macnair did his job well, greeted witches and wizards who boarded his lift with almost mocking respect, and generally kept to himself unless he was spoken to. It was nearing lunchtime when  _she_  boarded the lift and his eyes almost bugged.

It was the mudblood best friend. She got on the lift at level seven and requested to be taken to the atrium. She had a stack of books in hand and was reading one of them with her head down. Macnair's fingers twitched towards the wand in his pocket. He could kill her  _right now_  but if he did, he would not get the opportunity to do in Harry Potter.

Macnair almost fell to his knees in delight when at level two, Harry Potter himself entered the lift. The fucker greeted the mudblood with a kiss, an actual  _kiss_ , on the cheek and a hug. He also grabbed the books the mudblood was holding onto in a blatant act of chivalry which made Macnair want to roll his eyes. The two shuffled to the back of the lift as other people boarded. Many of the other nobodies who entered with Potter said hellos to the mudblood. Macnair had to bite his lip to stop the malicious grin from spreading across his face. He clenched his fist to avoid grabbing his wand right then and there. He could kill  _both_  Harry Potter and his mudblood best friend. God, what a wonderful day this was turning out to be. He never thought he would say that about a Monday.

Things happened as if in slow motion when the lift reached the busy atrium. Harry waited a second before guiding Hermione towards the door of the lift after the other Aurors which had just filed out. But as he walked past the operator who was trying very hard to smother a grin on his strange but yet familiar face, Harry knew something was  _off_. A quick look to the man's hand and Harry saw it was inching towards the wand sticking out of his pocket. Harry acted on instinct. He shoved Hermione to the side causing the witch to fall with a gasp and he dived down just in time to see the green light of the Killing Curse whiz past his head and hit a marble column. There was a scream of rage from behind him so he immediately cast a  _Protego_  shield just in time for another spell to bounce off it. He couldn't get to her on time though before another light, orange this time, hit the back of Hermione who was still crouched on the ground. Harry watched as Hermione's body turned slack and sagged on the floor. A yell so fierce erupted from his throat before he casted a flurry of curses and jinxes and the exploding charm towards the lift. He only stopped when his fellow Aurors came up behind him and almost wrestled his wand from his grasp. When his wand lowered, two Aurors headed towards the lift, wands drawn and shields up, to see the operator bloodied and bruised underneath the rubble caused by the  _Bombarda Maxima_  Harry had just cast. The man was apprehended and detained.

Harry turned to see two of his fellow Aurors tending to Hermione. A crowd had gathered around them and Harry vaguely heard yells and commands to call the mediwitches and alert Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, about what had just happened. He sank to his knees and looked at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted slightly. She was so pale too. He grabbed one of her hands and a strangled gasp left his lips at how  _cold_  it was.

"Harry," Amanda Roche, an Auror friend of his and also an old flame, looked at him gently. "Harry, she's alive. She's  _breathing_ , but faintly. The mediwitches will be here soon and they'll be able to help Hermione."

With shaking fingers Harry stroked Hermione's hair. "She  _has_  to be okay." He almost pleaded.

The mediwitches came running up to the group on the floor while other Aurors who were on the lift with Harry did their best to dispel the crowd. He was shoved aside by a mediwizard who quickly cast diagnoses spells on Hermione's still form before another one gently levitated her body onto a stretcher. The mediwitches were quick and efficient and soon Hermione's body was floating between them as they raced towards the hospital wing of the Ministry with two other Aurors as an escort. Harry was commanded to stay put.

Amanda came to stand by Harry whose gaze never left the group with Hermione until they were out of sight. She placed a hand over where the ink stag would have been and squeezed. "Harry, you can help her by finding out what curse she was hit with."

Harry's emerald eyes turned dark and his gaze shifted to another group of mediwitches who was still tending to the lift operator under the watchful eye of Aurors. The man's wand had already been taken and his hands were magically shackled as he was lifted onto a stretcher. He was conscious, Harry noted, and the man actually looked at him and  _sneered_.

His strong legs carried him to the group and he stared down at the man who tried to kill him and had harmed Hermione. Harry couldn't place why the man looked familiar, but he didn't care. His identity was not important. All he needed from him was one thing only.

"You will tell me the counter curse to what you hit Hermione with or so help me God I will  _kill_  you once the Ministry is done with you," Harry whispered.

The man sneered again. "That's a  _threat_ , Potter. You can't threaten me!" He goaded.

"I don't give a fuck and no one here does either," Harry said coldly. The mediwitches and Aurors around pretended no threats were said and continued with their tending and watching with not even a flinch. "You hurt one of ours and for that you will pay. You can make this easier on yourself if you tell us what spell you used!"

"Fuck you, Potter," Macnair spat.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "That's the wrong answer," he whispered. The mediwitches headed towards the holding cell with the man floating in a stretcher between them and two other Aurors standing guard. Harry promised he would make the man talk one way or another.

He  _needed_  to help Hermione.

He needed…

He needed  _her_ , he realized.

He needed her so badly and could not even imagine what life would be like without her.

The thought clenched his heart in a grip and choked him.

She was his rock. His foundation.

He could not live without her.

He needed her.

And so, he would do anything to help her.

Because now, she needed him.

* * *

Harry stood vigil by Hermione's bedside at St. Mungo's for the three days she was in the hospital. He only left for questioning Macnair and when he was  _forced_  out of the room by Ron and Ginny to rest at an actual bed with promises to alert him as soon as possible if there were changes to Hermione's condition.

The first two days were dire and scared the absolute shit out of him. Hermione remained unconscious and cold during those two days. The curse turned her very pale and she looked  _dead_  except for the very soft breaths she was taking. Her knees were bruised because of her fall and there were cuts on her arms and back of her legs due to debris from the spell fight outside the lift. They didn't know what spell was used on her and didn't know how to help her. All the mediwitches could do were force feed her potions to keep her vitality and tend to do the surface wounds on her body. But they didn't know how to reverse the curse. The wizard, whom he later found out was Walden Macnair, refused to tell anybody the counter. On more than one occasion Harry had almost turned his wand on the wizard in sheer anger and rage during questioning.

It was only after a heavy dose of Veritaserum did Macnair begin to speak. They would have used the potion on him sooner if not for the Ministry protocols around it. The matter was escalated by Harry himself until the potion use was finally approved. Macnair admitted that his initial plan was to kill Harry Potter and that Hermione Granger was a target of opportunity. He detailed his scheme and told them about the poor boy Joe Colton whom he had killed to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic under the guise of a lift operator. When asked about the curse, Macnair said that over the years he had developed a spell whose symptoms mimic that of the Draught of the Living Dead. What it does, however, was frightening. For when under the spell, the cursed would be plagued with their deepest and darkest fears - the stuff of nightmares - all the while giving the impression that they were under a peaceful slumber. They would be haunted until they themselves lose the will to live.

And when asked about the counter curse, Macnair gave a malicious smile and said what he believed to be true. There was no counter.

Mediwitches tried the Wiggenweld potion, the antidote to the Draught of the Living Dead. It didn't work. They tried casting Riddikulus over Hermione too, to banish any imaginary Boggarts that might be lurking in her head because of the curse, but it was futile. They tried to Rennervate her, feed her more "wake-up" potions but still, nothing.

If there was anybody that could help Hermione at that moment, it would be  _herself_.

But since she couldn't, Harry tried to put himself in her shoes.

He tried to think like Hermione because she  _needed_  him.

And that was when he came up with an idea that wasn't yet tried by the healers.

The opposite of fear was joy. Happiness. That was why Riddikulus works on Boggarts, since the spell would transform the Boggart to an object found humorous by the caster. And humour leads to joy, to happiness.

There was another spell - a more powerful spell - Harry knew of that was pure, concentrated form of happiness and of hope.

The answer was simple almost as much as it was complicated to anyone  _but_  Harry.

So, after getting approvals from the mediwitches, Harry cast a Patronus charm over Hermione's still body.

He thought of the happiest he had ever been. He thought of the timeturner and of Buckbeak's flight with him and Hermione on his back as they raced to save Sirius. He thought of his 20th birthday when Hermione had surprised him with a new broom. He thought of his, Hermione's, and Ron's trip to Japan as their first holiday together after they all landed jobs after the war. He thought of another trip he and Hermione took to Switzerland where he learned to ski. He thought of  _her_ , of how the simple act of  _being_  with her made him so content and so indescribably happy.

With bated breaths, the mediwitches, other Aurors, and Ron and the Weasleys, watched as the stag materialized from Harry's wand and charged towards the unmoving form of Hermione. It was the most powerful corporeal patronus anyone had ever seen. It reared its mighty antlered head before disappearing into her. A light so fierce illuminated the large but cramped hospital room and a sickly orange cloud lifted from within her and dispersed into the air.

And then Hermione breathed deeply and her hand twitched and Harry  _knew_  his idea had worked.

He was about to hold onto her hand again when the mediwitches commanded everyone but the healers to leave the room. They needed to run more diagnostics, more tests. They needed to ensure she was okay and so he was forced out of the room with his friends.

Harry didn't know how long he waited for until he was allowed back inside Hermione's room. He almost literally ran inside when he was told it was okay to re-enter. One look at her and Harry knew it would be okay. Already Hermione's cheeks were more flushed and he could actually see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed normally. The mediwitches told him they had put her under a spell-induced coma to recuperate  _peacefully_  since her mind probably wasn't at ease while she was cursed. She would wake up on her own after much needed sleep and he would be able to see those chocolate brown eyes again.

So, Harry sat by the chair at Hermione's bedside, grasped her warm hand with his, and waited.

* * *

The first thing Hermione felt when she came through to the world was the weight on her left hand. She scrunched her eyes, blinked them open, and turned her stiff neck to the side to find the source of the pressure. She saw her hand encased in someone else's, this someone else whose head was resting on his arm as he dozed peacefully. His black hair was wild and sticking out from all over the place. She couldn't see his face but Hermione knew who it was. She smiled and felt tears coming to her eyes.

Her nightmare was just that, a nightmare.

The images she saw of Harry leaving her, of him dying horrible deaths over and over again were just conjurings of her deepest, darkest fears.

They weren't true and he was there with her.

She squeezed the hand holding onto hers gently and felt him stir. His head shifted and his tired, sleepy eyes behind skewed glasses blinked confusedly as he raised his head from resting on his arm. His other arm - the lilied arm, she noted - raised to adjust his glasses before his gaze focused on hers.

"Hermione!" He gasped. He raised from his seat and looked down at her, his eyes scanning frantically over her form. "You're crying! Are you hurt? What's wrong? Should I get the healers?"

She squeezed his hand again and smiled weakly. "I'm okay, Harry. I'm just… I'm just so happy  _you're_  okay. I was so scared." She said, and more tears pooled into her eyes.

A breath left him. "You silly witch," he said, and sat back down. " _I_  should be worried about you. You had us all worried, Hermione. Do you… do you remember what happened?"

Hermione turned to face the ceiling as she tried to recall what transpired that put her at what looked to be a private ward at St. Mungo's. "I remember getting on a lift at the Ministry… and then you and Amanda and other Aurors got on as well. We got off at the atrium and then… and then  _you_  pushed me!" She gasped. Her head swiveled to look at him almost accusingly.

Harry's hand squeezed hers again while the other combed through his hair. "I know, I'm sorry," he said, his voice grave. "The lift operator - we later found out he was Macnair - was plotting to off me. He got into the Ministry and I knew something was off with him so I pushed you out of the way and jumped down just in time to avoid an  _Avada_  heading our way," Hermione gasped at his retelling. "But before I could get to you, he sent a curse to your direction and… and it hit you." His face was twisted in a rueful grimace.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione whispered softly.

"You were unconscious for two days, Hermione. The healers couldn't figure out what curse he hit you with." He continued. Harry's voice was soft, strained, and filled with anger. "We finally got approval to use the Veritaserum on him, and he told us. It was a curse he developed. The cursed would look like they were sleeping peacefully, similar to the effects of the Draught of the Living Dead, but they would be plagued with their worst fears. He… he said that there was no cure, and the cursed would just lose the will to live."

"Harry…"

"That was the single most scariest moment of my life, Hermione," he said fiercely. He turned his gaze on hers and held her eyes. "I thought I would lose you, but I knew that I couldn't give up. So I put myself in your shoes. I tried to see how you would approach this problem. That was when I thought to use the Patronus. I remembered you saying long ago that the Patronus is a tangible form of pure, positive energy. It is happiness, joy, and hope in one spell. I… I thought that would dispel the fear you were cursed with. And  _thank God_  it worked."

"Harry," Hermione breathed again. She extracted her hand from his grasp and brought it up to rest in his cheek. He instinctively turned his face to burrow in her soft hand. "I'm  _okay_  now. Thanks to you and… and to  _Prongs_ ," she said with a smile. "I remember seeing him, you know. When everything was dark and I felt so miserable because… because of that  _nightmare_. I saw him crashing through the illusion and he led me out."

His right hand came to take her hand back and he kissed her fingers gently. "I'm so happy you're safe. If you need to talk to anyone about… about the  _nightmares_ , then you know you can talk to me, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes darkened slightly as she was reminded of the visions she saw of Harry dead, or dying, or leaving her alone as she cried on the ground. She looked at the Harry who was with her now, holding onto her hand, looking at her softly.  _This_  was what was real.

"I know, Harry," she whispered softly. "I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it now, but I know I can talk to you when I am. Thank you," she said.

He smiled. He rose from his seat, bent over her, and withdrew his right hand from hers to wipe away at stray curls on her forehead. He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, lingering for just a second before tilting his head back and sitting down again. His hand went back to its place in hers, and he looked at her with a smile.

Hermione's brows were scrunched together as she looked at their interlaced fingers. She had noticed something when his hand was near her face and she could see more of the mark now that she was concentrating on his hand.

"Harry… did you get a new tattoo?" She asked.

He just smiled and turned over the hand which was holding hers. On the inside of his right arm, opposite the lily and the owl on his left, was a timeturner. The orbits were perfectly circular surrounding a sand dial framed with stars and moons. The two notches were placed symmetrically on either side of the metal rounds. Curved along one half of the timeturner, as if cradling it and protecting it, was an otter. Its sinuous body was twisted so that its long tail was by one notch of the timeturner while its head was by the other. Its small hands and feet were clasped together and its eyes were closed peacefully. A small, almost feline smile was on its lips.

"Harry…" Hermione whispered and she felt the tears pool into her eyes.

He simply brought her hand to his lips and kissed it again. "I was  _so_  scared, Hermione. I thought I would never see you wake up again, never see you smile again, never be able to talk to you again. I was so relieved, so  _happy_ , when the healers said the patronus worked. You were important to me… you  _are_  important to me, so I… I got this," he said, head gesturing to the ink. "They remind me of you. One of the happiest moments of my life was when we were on Buckbeak to rescue Sirius. We couldn't have done both of those without your timeturner. And… and the otter is  _your_  patronus. I thought it fitting, considering what I had to do to bring you back to me."

The tears did spell from Hermione's eyes then. She cried and laughed at the same time as she sniffled and used her other hand to wipe away her tears. Harry's mouth lifted at the corners as he watched her try to compose herself.

"Harry, you've got me blubbering like a baby!" Hermione chided as more tears continued to pour.

His face broke in an all out grin and he used his newly tattooed hand to help wipe away her tears. "Hermione, don't you ever,  _ever_ , scare me like that  _ever again_. You can't leave me." His words, while said in jest, held truth and demanded promise.

She sniffed and turned her dewey eyes toward his. "I  _won't_ , Harry. I promise."

* * *

She was bored out of her mind. She had forced Harry to go to work since she was  _fine, really_. He left with promises to return during lunch to keep her company. Ginny dropped by shortly after he left to check up on her and she was rewarded with the latest gossip (Ginny worked for the Daily Prophet). Ginny filled Hermione in on the full story with Macnair and Harry's wrath towards the dark wizard. Ron and Megan, his wife of two years, visited too before they reported to work and Hermione was told that the couple was expecting their first child. She laughed and cried some more and accepted their offer to be their future baby's godmother. But now that her friends were away to their jobs, Hermione was utterly bored.

It was about 11:30am when she heard the door to her private wing open. She thought it was Harry who had decided to break for lunch early, but one look towards the door showed that it was her ex, Lukas. She hadn't seen him since the day he broke up with her nearly four months ago now. She watched him walk towards her silently with confusion in her eyes.

His handsome face lifted into a gentle smile and his grey eyes held hers. "How are you doing, Minny?" He asked, using his old nickname for her.

Hermione felt a smile forming in her lips at the familiar term of endearment. "I've been better. How have you been, Luke?"

Lukas leaned back on the chair and looked at her with a grin. "Doing better. I've met a girl, you know."

Hermione couldn't help the gasp of surprise from leaving her lips. "Oh! That's wonderful. What's her name?"

"Her name is Adelaide, and she had just started in my department two months ago. I know, I know, I shouldn't dabble in office romance especially since she and I will be working closely, but I can't help it. She's brilliant, and beautiful, and I think I'm done for." Lukas said, his face turning wistful. "She had actually already met my parents. It was accidental, mind you. We were headed to my place after a night out for,  _you know_ , and my parents were there! They surprised me with their visit. One hell of a surprise that was. But it turned out for the better since they  _really_  like each other."

Hermione laughed. "Oh Luke, I'm so happy for you!" She said. And she meant it. This surprised her, because even as he spoke about this new girl who came after her, she felt no twinge of heartache or sadness. Shouldn't she feel  _something_  negative about this? Shouldn't that how exes feel? Their breakup was far from amicable too. In fact, it had actually blindsided her. But all the hurt she  _should_  have felt was clouded with confusion and… relief. Which, of course, led to more confusion. But she pushed it aside because she was far too busy with the rest of her life.

He grasped her hand. "I came by because I wanted to see how you were doing and… and to say sorry for ending things so abruptly with us," he said. His eyes turned downcast as he replayed how he broke up with her. "It was wrong of me to be so angry with you and to end things that way. I shouldn't have ambushed you in your flat. I'm sorry."

"Oh Luke," Hermione sighed and squeezed his hand. "It's not your fault at all.  _I_ was at fault for letting work always come between us. I shouldn't have cancelled on meeting your parents, it was rude and just not right. I should have tried to make more time for you. I'm  _really_  sorry for that. I realized after that… that maybe I should have prioritized you more."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "It's all in the past. We're  _both_  sorry and that is what matters. But I gotta ask… did you ever figure it out?"

"Figure what out?" Hermione asked, her voice laced with confusion.

A sly smile lit up his face as if he was keeping a secret from her. "What you really want?"

Her brows furrowed. "I don't understand… I have everything I could ever want right now, Lukas. I have my family, a great career, even better friends…"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. But do you have someone you  _love_?  _Who_  do you really want, Hermione?"

Hermione froze. "What?"

Lukas gave her a smile and rose from his chair. He bent down and kissed her forehead too, before squeezing her hand one more time. "Just think about it. You're a smart witch."

He turned around and walked out leaving a bewildered Hermione staring after him.

Not five minutes after Lukas leave did Harry Potter walk through the door. He had a scowl on his face and when he saw her his scowl changed to a look of alarm and then a frown. He immediately walked over to her bedside.

"Simon was here, wasn't he? Did he upset you?!" Harry asked. He leaned over the side of her bed and brought his tattooed arm to stroke her cheek.

Hermione's stunned expression softened. "Oh Harry, no, he didn't. We were… we were talking and… it was quite pleasant actually. He just said something which surprised me before he left."

Harry became less tense but the frown remained on his face. "I passed him on the hall when I was walking here. What did he want?"

Hermione's lips twitched at his straightforward question. "He wanted to see how I was doing."

"I didn't know you and him were still  _friendly_  with each other."

Hermione's face broke into a grin at his words. "I didn't either, until he came here. He apologized for how he ended things and he told me about his new lady."

The scowl returned. "Was he trying to make you  _jealous_?"

Hermione laughed. " _No_ , Harry. It was a nice conversation in fact! And even if he  _was_  trying to make me jealous, he didn't succeed. I am very much over him."

He relaxed. "Good."

The mood was lifted and the pair spent the next hour eating lunch which Harry had smuggled in past the mediwitches. The man had rolled his long sleeved shirt up to his elbows and Hermione's gaze kept drifting to the tattoos on his arms. She almost missed her mouth with her fork since she was staring so intently at what she considered to be  _her_  tattoo. Every movement of his as he ate caused the muscles of his arms to flex. It was utterly captivating and Hermione's eyes devoured the images.

Later that night, as Harry slept on a transfigured couch in her hospital room, Hermione allowed herself to really think. She thought about Harry and, well, his tattoos. Through the darkness with only a candle light flickering, she could actually see some of them as he dozed off in his sleep clothes. She was fairly certain she had memorized all of his tattoos by now, except for the ones she couldn't fully see and lied beneath his clothes. She knew every curve and every line and every dot and shade. If she were given a pad of paper and a pen, she felt as if she could draw them. Well, maybe not since her artistic talents were limited. But if she had a sketch artist draw the tattoos out for her using only her descriptions, she was confident the results would be almost identical.

That also meant, of course, that she had memorized  _Harry_. It was hard not to since she stared at him a lot. She knew all of his tells. She could tell when he was irate, since his hand would be running through his unruly hair at least twice a minute. She could tell when he was angry, since those eyes of his would turn so cold and hard like gems and he would be so quiet. She could tell when he was pleased or happy, since that beautiful mouth of his would curve at the side and a little dimple would show on his cheek.

She knew every feature of his face and longed to know every feature of the  _rest_  of him. She wanted to know the dips and curves and peaks of his skin. She wanted to know every hollow and every rise of the body which she had so admired from afar. She wanted to see those tattoos up close and personal and finally find out where the fire on his arm led.

She wanted to see him.

She wanted  _him_.

"Oh shit," Hermione whispered in the darkness and Lukas' words rang in her ears.

It was as if a cloud of confusion had cleared.

_What_  she really want,  _who_ she  _really_ want, was  _Harry_.

She couldn't even contest this realization of hers, and truthfully, she wasn't even surprised. What she  _was_  surprised about was how long it took her to realize, but the realization itself was like being reminded of a fact she had always known but had dismissed. It was like being reminded that water is wet and that the sun is hot.

She wanted him because he was Harry.

Because he was her best friend.

Because he was her saviour.

Because he was important to her.

Because he made her so happy.

Because her greatest fear was of losing him.

Because she couldn't live without him.

And because she loved him more than she had loved anyone else in the world.

Hermione smiled and her gaze trailed up his arm from her tattoo, to the illustration of the stag, and to Harry's peaceful sleeping face.

She realized now that she loved him.

And all she needed to do was make  _him_  realize that  _he_  loved  _her_  as well.

Because she  _knew_  that he did love her.

His actions and words and  _tattoo_ were a testament of that.

He just needed a little reminder that water is wet and that the sun is hot.

And Hermione was more than happy to remind him.


	2. Part Two: Mesmerize

**Part Two: Mesmerize**

**Mesmerize**  ( _verb_ )  
to have someone's attention completely so that they cannot think of anything else

* * *

She blamed Ginny. None of this would have happened if the redhead hadn't forced her!

It was her 26th birthday, so the ladies of her life decided to take her out for a night out. It was quite a spectacle. Her, Ginny, Megan, Angelina, and Fleur dressed in their "tasteful but sexy" (as described by Ginny) dresses to have dinner at a fancy restaurant in an up and coming part of Diagon Alley which was embracing more of Muggle culture. After, they headed to a popular Muggle club near Magical London where they (except Megan, of course) drank cocktails and tried to coerce Hermione into dancing. They stuck to their own group and danced with each other, and many of the club's occupants glanced at their direction. Hermione was told to let go, and she did. She wasn't uptight, but she was more of a stay-at-home-and-read kind of girl than the clubbing sort. She preferred dinner parties over dancing and would rather get lost in a good book or movie than deal with large crowds and strangers. But her friends wanted to experience new things with her, and that included clubbing. So, she let them do her up like their personalized doll and take her out around town. She didn't realize how much fun she was having until she burst out laughing at Fleur's appalled face when the DJ, as a joke, decided to play T-Pain's Apple Bottom Jeans and the whole club cheered, sang along,  _and_  gyrated to the floor when shawty got low. Angelina told the DJ that it was her birthday too so everyone sang her the birthday song.

Perhaps it was the excess amounts of endorphins in her system from having so much fun, not to mention all the alcohol she had consumed, that she went along with Ginny's crazy idea. She was riding on the high from being taken out of her comfort zone and actually  _liking_  the experience that she said yes to this new experience too.

Ginny wanted to get a tattoo and had convinced the rest of them to get one with her. Angelina immediately said yes. She was no stranger to ink since she already had some on her skin. Also, it seemed like George  _really_  liked her tattoos so of course she was up for a new one! Sweet, sweet Megan timidly said yes since she apparently had always wanted a tattoo. Fleur took a bit more convincing. The beautiful part-Veela didn't want to mark her skin but Ginny said that they were going to get no ordinary tattoos but  _magical_  ones so she needn't worry. Her tattoo could be magiced to only be visible when she wanted to and  _also_  Bill (who had some of his own) wouldn't mind  _at all_  if she got one herself. Fleur blushed and agreed. Hermione surprised everyone and said yes too. Why the hell not? It was her birthday, she was an adult, and a tattoo sounded like a fine idea to her. She had always loved looking at  _Harry's_  tattoos so what would it hurt if she got one on her skin that  _she_  could then admire?

So the witches went back to Diagon Alley and followed Ginny into a shop. In hindsight, Ginny seemed to know exactly where to go which surprised Hermione. It didn't seem like such a spur of the moment idea since the redhead steered them through the alley and straight into the shop with beautiful and colourful images posted on its windows. Ginny explained that this shop was always open late, which was an understatement since it was just shy of midnight. A man in his late twenties was seated on a plushed chair reading a book and he glanced up when they entered through the door. A smile illuminated his handsome face and he stood up to take Ginny in an embrace. Hermione and Megan shared a knowing look.

"Everyone, this is Ashton Suzuki, an artist friend of mine. Ash, these are my dearest friends and sisters-in-law, Angelina, Megan, Fleur, and the special birthday girl Hermione!" Ginny made the introductions. Ash, whom Hermione noted was  _very_  handsome and looked to be of mixed heritage with auburn hair and dark brown eyes, kissed each of their hands in greeting. Hermione heard her friends sigh when his lips touched their skin and she stifled a grin. That was one way to win them over.

"Ladies, it's a pleasure to have you in my shop," he said, his voice silky smooth and slightly accented with Japanese. "Will you be getting any of my  _art_  on you tonight?"

Hermione liked that he referred to his tattoos as art. She looked around the parlour to see images of the tattoos he had done before and was amazed at the sheer talent displayed in them and the wide range of styles they covered. There were some in Japanese style; tattoos whose bold colours told the tale of the rich Japanese history and folklore with images of  _kaijus_ , dragons, and phoenixes. Some tattoos were what Hermione would consider "traditional" with their more iconic designs like roses, skulls, and tribal patterns. But what Hermione did not expect were to see some of the images  _move_. She had to blink a couple of times to ensure it wasn't just a trick of the light that made the woman in the pinup tattoo wink or the dragon roar. Some of the tattoos were indeed moving atop the skin and she looked awestruck at them. So  _this_  was what Ginny meant by magical tattoos.

"I've convinced them," Ginny said with a wink. "So, who wants to go first?" At their silence, Ginny rolled her eyes and offered herself up as tribute. "Fine,  _I'll_  go first." She said. Turning to the artist, she added, "Ash, I know  _exactly_  what I want to get."

Ash nodded his head and faced the rest of the women. He gave them a dazzling smile and gestured to the comfortable seats in the waiting area. "Ladies, excuse me for a moment while I work on the design for Ginny. Meanwhile, please think about the art you would want to get tonight. You can watch later when the tattoo is being done if you're curious," he said. "My assistant will be here to help you with anything you need." With a nod, he turned around and joined Ginny already sat by a table at the far end of the room.

As if on cue, the shop assistant emerged from the back room carrying a tray with a tall pitcher of water and another pitcher of light orange liquid. It looked alcoholic, Hermione thought, and a small sip from her cup confirmed it. It had a kick and it tasted  _so good_. It's a dangerous drink, whatever it was. They were also given some pastries and salty snacks and were handed an album containing even more designs for them to look through.

Ginny's consultation with Ash took but ten minutes and soon all of the women, with drinks in hand, hovered around a plushed chair where Ginny was sat. Her right arm was extended and a stencil of Ash's design was on the skin above her wrist.

It was a drawing of a single tree. The trunk extended to long branches which held a multitude of leaves.

"You're getting a  _tree_?" Angelina asked incredulously.

"Yes, I  _like_  trees." Ginny said with no hesitation. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Ash ignored them and sat on a stool to the side of Ginny's outstretched arm. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows which revealed sleeves of brightly coloured tattoos underneath. Hermione felt her jaw drop as she looked at all of the intricate images. He removed his wand from his pocket and pointed it to Ginny's arm.

" _Circumlinisti stibio_ ," he murmured. He then touched the wand tip to the drawing on Ginny's arm. A small bead of light erupted from the tip and he carefully traced the stencil with the light. He murmured another incantation and drew outside of the stencil. Since the drawing was quite small, the procedure was finished in less than ten minutes. Ash withdrew his wand from her skin and flicked it causing the light to disappear. He gently took Ginny's arm from the cushion and tilted it to be in full view. The tree was so lifelike with its lush green leaves. She saw that Fleur was about to ask something when Ash ran a finger through the drawing. Speechless, Hermione watched as the tree bloomed. White flowers emerged from the green leaves and a couple of birds flew from between its branches.

Ginny was grinning broadly at her new tattoo. She leapt from her seat and gave Ash a hug. "It's beautiful! Thank you, Ash." She said. The artist only gave her a lopsided smile and kissed her at the side of her head.

The redhead turned to the rest of the group. With a small smile on her lips, she narrowed her gaze and looked at each of the women one by one. "Who's next?"

* * *

Hermione's head was absolutely throbbing. She lifted her head from the pillow and brought her hand up to her forehead to stop the pounding. She blinked furiously to adjust her eyes to the light and realized that the pounding was coming from her front door and not in her head.

She groaned, untangled her body from the sheets, and left the confines of her bed. She almost tripped over a box on the floor and carefully tiptoed around the remaining boxes in her bedroom. Hermione had moved flats the day before her birthday and hadn't yet fully unpacked. The most she had done was her living room and kitchen and left the bedrooms for last. That also reminded her that she hadn't yet set the wards in her new home, or had alerted her friends they could apparate inside, so she guessed that as the reason for the knock.

Whoever was behind the door was knocking again and she hurried just a little bit to answer it. The noise was making her head hurt and all she wanted to do right this moment was brew some hangover potion to sort herself out again. Thank God she had unpacked her kitchen. She grasped the doorknob and swung her front door open.

Harry was behind her door. He was sporting an easy grin wearing dark blue jeans and a forest green button up shirt which she had given him on his birthday. The top button was undone and he wore a light sports coat over it in dark grey.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?" Her hand fell from the doorknob and she let the door swing open.

His gaze was alight as he fully looked at her. Her hair was in a very messy chignon tied at the base of her neck as a clear evidence she had slept on it. Wild tendrils had escaped from the knot and was framing her face. And that face of hers. She was wearing what looked to be remnants of makeup with some mascara smudged underneath her almond eyes. Her eyes were still glassy with sleep. Harry's own eyes quickly darted to her attire and he gulped. She was wearing the smallest black dress he had  _ever_  seen her in. The neckline was high which elongated her neck but there were no sleeves so her shoulders and arms were exposed. It fit her tightly around the bust and flared at the waist. The hem stopped midway up her thighs revealing long legs and bright red painted toenails.

"I must look like a fright, huh?" She continued after noticing his reaction. She worriedly brushed away a curl from her face. "Frankly I don't even remember how I got home last night. I can't remember if I apparated home - thank God I didn't get splinched if I did! The girls took me out for my birthday, we went to dinner, and then there were some drinks, and I don't really remember much what happened after that. But yet I can't stop thinking about  _apple trees_  for some reason and God, my head is  _killing_ me. I'm going to hex Ginny, she instigated all of this..." He cut off her rambling by stepping through the threshold of her home and enveloping her in a hug.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," he said. His arms snaked around her and he almost withdrew them in surprise when his hands touched bare skin. He looked down from his place above her head and saw that the dress she was wearing had a fully exposed back. He closed his eyes to calm his racing heart as she returned his embrace.

"Thank you, Harry," She whispered softly. She withdrew from his arms and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "But I thought you weren't supposed to be back for another three days? How are you home so early?"

"I can't very well miss your birthday, now can I?" He said with a grin. "I actually came back last night but Ginny threatened to hex  _me_  if I stole you from them. She found out I was back from Ron and wanting to surprise you. But like I said, she wouldn't let me steal you away."

Hermione thought that she would have absolutely loved it if he did steal her away. Her feelings for Harry only grew these past couple of months after she came to the realization that she loved him. Every second spent with him was a second she treasured. And every minute apart never did feel right after that, too. It wasn't like she was depressed or moody when they were apart. She understood of course that it's impossible for them to be physically together all the time. She had her very demanding job and he did as well. She was  _okay_  with that. What she wasn't okay with was the feeling that  _something_  remained unresolved when they're away from each other. The  _uncertainty_  of the situation grew when there's distance between them. Because, after all, how was Harry supposed to know that she loved him if she wasn't there to  _show_  it? Doesn't the saying go "out of sight, out of mind"? Hermione very much wanted to be in Harry's mind since he was in hers all the time.

Funny enough, Hermione soon realized that she really  _couldn't_  be subtle in showing Harry he was loved. If she wanted him to know she loved him (aside from saying it out loud - she was too scared for that)  _and_  that he felt the same way, then she would need to do something drastic. It's not like he was thick (he was  _much_  better at Ron in the emotions department), but Hermione's normal actions and behaviour already oozed with love for Harry. He was  _used_  to being loved without even knowing it! For example, Hermione knew every single one of his favourites. She knew his favourite colour (cerulean blue), his favourite food (mac and cheese), how he liked his coffee (black with a dash of milk and no sugar, disgusting) and tea (preparation depends on the type of tea, but he preferred earl grey with hot milk), his favourite band (The Beatles), and his favourite song (Come Together by The Beatles). When they're having breakfast together, they worked in tandem to prepare each other's plates and when they're out and about they walked side by side with Hermione's arm looped around his. She was more  _touchy_  towards him than anyone else in her life and she knew he was the same with her! They hugged each other all the time, sat next to each other all the time, kissed each other all the time ( _innocently_  on the cheek, forehead, or temple, unfortunately) and even  _sleep_  on the same bed with each other with not a second thought if it was so required. For goodness sake, they acted like a married couple with each other and that was what was  _normal_  for them!

So,  _no_ , Hermione could not be subtle if  _that_  was her normal with Harry.

She couldn't yet decide what to do though. It needed to be something  _different_. But since she currently didn't know what that would be, she continued to just trudge along. She would continue to love Harry with every fibre of her being and show him with every single one of her actions.

Even if he was unaware of it.

"Are you up for having a lunch out? It's almost noon anyway. Why don't you take a hot bath and I'll make you some hangover potion?" He continued. He closed the door behind him.

Add that as another reason why she loved him.

He knew just what she needed.

"I could kiss you, Harry," Hermione said. Harry smiled at her words not knowing she really meant them.

She gave him another hug and turned around to head back into her bedroom. His breath caught in his throat when he looked at her retreating form. He gulped. He had a clear view of the back of her dress, or lack thereof. The soft, pale skin of her back was fully visible from nape to the small of her waist.

He almost gave a start when he thought he saw a drawing of a Golden Snitch zoom across her skin.

* * *

Hermione stripped from her clothes and entered her en suite bathroom. She grimaced when she saw how she looked in the mirror. The makeup which Ginny had put on her was all smudged. Her hair was a mess and she hurriedly removed the pins which held her chignon ( _how_  was she able to sleep with all of that in her hair?!). She ran a hand through her curls and watched as they framed her face.

She turned to the large tub and thought that  _yes_ , moving here was a great idea. It was perched right in front of a large window overlooking the London skyline. She was assured that the window was one-way - no one from outside would be able to see in. That didn't stop her from casting her own charms over it though to guarantee her privacy. The master bath was one of the main selling points of her new flat. Hermione loved taking long soaks while reading a good book and watching over the city. She  _loved_  living in London - in the Muggle part, that is. It gave her the privacy and normalcy she wouldn't get if she lived in the magical community by Diagon Alley. It was also close enough to the magical part of London that she could get to and from her work quite easily.

She filled the tub and used some of her favourite bath salts. She tested the water before stepping over the edge and sinking into the warm water. For the next half hour, Hermione lost herself in her bath.

She emerged from the bathroom in a terry cloth robe and her wet hair twisted in a towel above her head. She smiled when she heard rummaging in the kitchen and the sound of the television which meant that Harry was keeping true to his promise. Already she felt loads better after the bath, although her memories from last night were still quite hazy. She had to give Megan a call later - she knew the pregnant witch would be the only one who would have her wits about today since she had no drinks last night.

Hermione tiptoed around the boxes in her bedroom and stood in front of her dresser. She grabbed a vial of moisturizer and rubbed some on her face, looking at the large mirror perched atop the table to make sure every inch was covered. She grabbed a larger bottle and scooped some of the liquid to rub on her body. She lost her robe and started with her arms and moved downwards, moisturizing her chest, stomach, and legs. She scooped another handful and twisted her torso slightly to moisturize her back, too.

She screamed when, through the mirror, she saw the tattoo of the Golden Snitch at the back of her right shoulder.

She heard a crash in the kitchen, followed by feet pounding on her hardwood floor. Her bedroom door flew open and Harry Potter ran inside looking frantic with his wand raised.

"What's wrong?!" Harry yelled.

She swiveled on her spot, eyes wide. She was like a deer caught in headlights. Her lips were parted in a silent gasp. Her chest was heaving from surprise. For a brief second they stared at each other, stunned. It was only when Harry realized he was staring at her naked body did he immediately turn around and walk out of her bedroom.

When her door was closed again, Hermione silently sat at the edge of her bed. The events of last night were starting to clear in her head.

Ginny was  _so_  dead.

* * *

Harry sat on the living room couch staring off into the distance. The television was still on, but he paid no attention to it.

He knew he would never,  _ever_ ,  _ever_ forget the sight he had just witnessed.

Even if he was  _Obliviated_  he would never forget it.

Because, my God, Hermione's body was  _mesmerizing_.

She was magnificently shaped, like a sculpture carved from marble by one of the greatest artists like Michelangelo. She had delicate shoulders which made way to graceful arms. Her stomach was flat, her waist narrow, and her hips flared out to shapely and long legs. And, my goodness, her  _chest_. Harry closed his eyes when he remembered what he saw. Her breasts were full and pert and her nipples were taut when he saw them.

And then, there was her tattoo. An honest to goodness  _tattoo_.

Of a Snitch.

A Golden fucking  _Snitch_.

It was the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen.

That mark on the softness of her skin made Harry want to do very bad things to her.

Harry gulped and tried to clear his mind. He tried to calm his racing heart. He  _knew_  he shouldn't be thinking about his best friend like this, especially since it was a complete accident that he saw her naked. He intruded on her privacy, even though his intentions were noble. He was  _not_  meant to see her in the way that he did so, to be respectful and a good friend, he needed to stop thinking about it.

He need to just forget what he saw and wipe the memory from his mind.

Harry sighed. No, he couldn't do it.

Hermione had been in his thoughts since  _The Incident_. It was what he dubbed the event that had transpired at the Ministry of Magic involving Macnair from a couple of months back. It was the most distraught he had ever been. It was the scariest moment of his life, even more frightening than facing Voldemort. When he saw the curse hit, it was like his heart dropped. The most intense worry and dread filled his system followed by such incensed anger at the man who caused her harm. The following days when she wouldn't wake up despite what the healers tried were even more frightening. He felt so lost when Macnair, under the influence of the truth potion, told them there was no counter to the curse.

How could that be true? How could there be  _no cure_?

That only meant that Harry would lose her, and he couldn't,  _wouldn't_  even consider the idea.

That whole ordeal sparked a startling realization within Harry.

Hermione was important to him.

Moreover, she was  _the_  most important person in his life.

There could be no Harry Potter without Hermione Granger.

He  _needed_  her and that  _fact_  seized him and enveloped his whole being.

He tossed and turned late at night trying to make sense of it; trying to see how it would fit into his life; trying to see how it would change anything.

And then he realized that it  _already_  made sense, it  _already_  fit, and that it  _wouldn't_  change anything.

She had always been the most important person in his life. For ever since they became friends in their first year at Hogwarts, Hermione had cemented her place at the top; both at the top of the class and at the top of Harry's existence. She was a great friend, a great confidante, his saviour on many occasions, his rock, his support, his foundation. For the fifteen years they have been friends, they hardly fought. Every momentous occasion in Harry's life was spent with her. When he's away on business trips, he couldn't wait to get back to London to see her. His happiest memories were with her,  _of_  her.

Hermione's simple act of  _being_  made Harry live and thrive.

And he knew then that his feelings for her were more than just friendly.

He loved her.

So,  _no_ , Harry could not forget what he saw just minutes ago. In fact, he had been  _imagining_  it so much lately. He wanted so badly to touch her, kiss her, caress her. He wanted her to know how he really felt about her.

Uncertainty stopped him from voicing his newly realized feelings. Hermione never showed any signs of feeling  _more_  towards Harry. She was just… Hermione.

What was giving him an ounce of hope that she may be feeling the same way was this new tattoo. For him personally, the tattoos on his body were a testament of importance and a symbol of remembrance. They were like a roadmap of his life. They were representations of things which made Harry  _Harry_. Many of them were representations of the people he loved.

He could only wish that the tattoo of the Golden Snitch on her body held the same sentiment.

He hoped that she chose the illustration with  _him_  in mind.

Because if she did, then maybe,  _just maybe_ , she felt the same way.

* * *

Hermione emerged from her bedroom silently. She looked to the living room and saw that Harry had turned off the television and was instead reading one of her books on the loveseat next to the sofa with one leg bent on top of the other knee. He looked so utterly relaxed it unnerved her. There was a steaming pot of tea on the coffee table and a mug of familiar orange potion. She bit her lip and quietly padded towards him. The sound of approaching footsteps made Harry look up from his reading material.

He gave her a smile. "Hey," he said.

Her mouth twitched. "Hey," she replied back.

She crossed the floor and sat down on the sofa. Hermione didn't know what to say. Should she apologize for what happened? Or should she pretend none of it did? Which was the path of least resistance?

"Harry -"

"Hermione -"

They laughed when they spoke together. Harry set the book on the table and gave a nod of his head. "You go first," he said.

Hermione conceded. "I want to say I'm sorry for… screaming and startling you earlier," she began. Her face coloured and she continued. "I was… surprised at something and I shouldn't have reacted as such and made you worry. God, I'm so embarrassed. But yes. I'm sorry for um…  _that_."

Harry nodded. "Alright, but I'm not sorry."

She blinked. "What?"

"I'm not sorry."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. Her brows were furrowed and there was a small frown on her face.

Harry smiled at her. "I'm not sorry about what happened."

Her lips parted. "Why not?!" She asked almost accusingly.

"Because I saw your tattoo."

His reply took her by surprise. She wasn't expecting  _that_. She didn't even know Harry had seen the new mark on her skin. He had seen everything else, yes, but she didn't think he saw her tattoo. And truthfully, she felt more  _vulnerable_  than embarrassed at knowing that.

Hermione liked her body. She tried to take good care of it and kept a regular regimen consisting of jogging and going to the gym. She wasn't shy when it came to her assets even though she preferred to keep them hidden. She's had many boyfriends before and most of them have seen her naked so she wasn't a prude. She was more embarrassed about the  _awkwardness_  the situation had caused than the fact that he had seen her naked.

But her tattoo was different. It was so personal. Alright, so she didn't  _remember_ it was there since she was so inebriated last night. But, she knew exactly why she had chosen the Golden Snitch even if she were not of sober mind. She didn't need to be sober to know she loved Harry. If she was to get something so permanent engraved on her body, then it needed to hold meaning and importance. It needed to be special. So, in her drunken state, she chose the Golden Snitch because it reminded her of the one she loved the most. It reminded her of Harry Potter.

It was the shock of his finding out about the tattoo that made Hermione feign ignorance. "Tattoo? What are you talking about Harry?"

The hue of his emerald green eyes darkened to a deep forest green. "The tattoo at the back of your right shoulder," he said. "It looked  _exactly_  like a real Snitch, even the size is the same. I would know - I'm a Seeker," he added with a small smile. He'd played many a Quidditch game, and  _always_  as a Seeker, to know what a Golden Snitch looked like. He had held probably thousands of them by now. He so badly wanted to take hold of this one too.

At her silence, Harry decided to continue his questioning. The flicker of hope in his chest was growing into a larger flame. Her evasion about the tattoo led him to believe that it  _did_  mean something more than just a decorative mark on her skin. He just needed to know  _what_  it was that it symbolized. "Why did you get it, Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes turned downcast. She tried to look anywhere but into his eyes. Was this what she needed to do? Was this the  _something different_  that would make Harry realize she was in love with him? If he found out that she chose this permanent illustration because it reminded her of him, and that it was like having him with her all the time, would he finally  _know_  what he meant to her?

She breathed in deeply. A small smile graced her lips and she raised her head to look directly at him. "Because it reminds me of you. I want you by my side all the time, Harry. The Snitch is like your presence. It's… it's  _nice_  feeling that you're with me."

The flame of hope spread across his body. It reached his fingertips, his toes, the strands of his hair. He felt warm all over when the dawning realization that she may feel the same way enveloped his being.

"May I see it?" He asked.

"Oh," Hermione said. She blinked. "Oh yes, of course!"

She stood from her seat and Harry stood up as well. She bit her lower lip as she turned around so her back was to him. She shrugged off her oversized cardigan so that it still clung to her upper arms but her collarbones and shoulders were revealed. The white satin camisole she wore beneath brushed against her skin when she reached up to grab her hair. She held her curls in two hands and tilted her head slightly down.

Harry was mesmerized. The drawing of the Snitch stood out from her pale and creamy skin. The walnut-sized ball with its intricate grooves and notches was etched so expertly. The two thin and feather-like wings were both extended to one side as if the ball was frozen in hasty flight. There was no colour, but it didn't need any. It was indeed the Golden Snitch for it looked exactly like the real thing.

Hermione's breath caught when she felt Harry's touch on her skin. His fingertips gently brushed over the sphere before he himself gasped. The image of the ball shook and quivered before the wings fully extended. It moved three inches to the left and stopped in flight right below the base of her neck. Harry's eyes tracked its movements like it was a Quidditch game and he was indeed the Seeker. The Snitch darted to her left shoulder, and then disappeared under her camisole. A second later it flew to her right shoulder and down the back of her arm to her elbow until he couldn't see it anymore under her cardigan.

"Hermione! It flew!" He exclaimed with a small laugh. He turned the bewildered girl to face him.

"What? It  _flew_?" She asked dumbstruck. Harry wasn't looking at her face though, his eyes were looking over every exposed skin of her upper body. When he couldn't find the Snitch, he gently grasped her jumper and completely removed it from her and tossed it to the couch behind. Both sets of eyes darted to the Snitch which was hiding on her right forearm. Hermione saw that the ball was vibrating as it kept its place, its wings beating incredibly fast like a hummingbird's to maintain the hover. Harry's hand reached to touch it but just before he could, the Snitch raced up her arm again. They watched in awe as the image made a sharp turn at the top of her arm, moved to the base of her throat, before turning south and flying down her chest and underneath her shirt.

They looked at each other. Hermione's lips were parted in surprise, her eyes wide. Harry was looking at her so intently, his eyes clouded with  _something_ she couldn't quite decipher.

And then his lips were on hers. She stood frozen as he worked her mouth with his. His arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer to him. When her arms remained to her side, Harry smiled against her mouth before moving her arms to rest on his shoulders. And then his arms were around her again trying to draw her further in.

She started to respond when the shock wore off and the acceptance of what happened and  _pleasure_ of the situation caught up to her. His mouth felt so good against hers as he gently teased her lips with his tongue. She parted her lips to allow entrance. Her hands were causing quite a mess in his hair. She was gripping and tugging and pulling at the strands as she held his head in place against hers.

Harry's hands on her waist were causing little shockwaves of pleasure. His fingers were toying with the hem of her camisole and dipping underneath it to caress the skin peeking above her jeans. He murmured something against her lips and she extracted herself from the kiss to make sense of it.

"What was that, Harry?" She whispered. Her lips were tingling from their liplock. He rested his forehead against hers and nuzzled her nose.

"I need to catch the Snitch, Hermione," Harry said with a smile. His hands went from the side of her waist to rest at the front of her abdomen. She took in a breath when she felt his calloused hands on the skin of her stomach. "Will you let me?" He went back to kissing her again, but not on her mouth this time. He trailed kisses from her neck, to the side of her jaw, to her cheek, and lapped on her ear. She shivered and nodded her head.

The hands on her stomach raised higher until they were just below her bust. He played with the soft skin there while continuing his assault on her ear. Then his hands were suddenly grasping the hem of her camisole and in one swift motion, the shirt was gone and off her body.

He looked at her as she stood in front of him topless, chest heaving, lips bruised. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath her shirt so he was rewarded with her delicious bare breasts. She was so incredibly sexy as she looked at him, waiting. The Snitch was beating its wings and hovering right below her left breast. She looked almost vulnerable as she stood there and he wanted to comfort her and assure her that all of this was  _perfect_  and just how it should be.

"What are we doing, Harry?" She whispered.

His eyes locked on hers. There was  _hope_  behind the confusion in her chocolate orbs. That fueled his own and he  _knew_  that she felt the same way. So he took her in his arms again and kissed her. He poured every ounce of reassurance into the kiss. He enveloped her in his arms and showed her with his lips that he  _wanted_  this and that he  _needed_  this. He kissed her with so much passion that left her breathless. Against her lips, he murmured. "What I've been wanting to do for months now. What I should have done before."

It was the affirmation she needed to hear. A smile so radiant erupted from her lips. She tilted her head back and looked at him. "I love you, Harry," she said simply.

His eyes were bright and a smile graced his own face. "And I love  _you_ , Hermione," he said.

With a laugh, she launched herself into another kiss. Their kisses were playful now, teasing. They ended up on the couch with her on Harry's lap. She straddled his waist as they kissed and licked and sucked. His hands were rubbing up and down her bare back while her fingers never stopped playing with his hair. He withdrew from the kiss and went back to the task at hand. He was a Seeker after all, and that Golden Snitch needed to be caught. Hermione watched curiously as Harry tilted her back from her place on his lap and his gaze lock onto her tattoo. The enchanted tattoo of the Snitch kept its place underneath her left breast. Its wings were beating furiously now as if waiting for an attack. Slowly, carefully, as if sneaking up on it, Harry inched his left hand from her back towards the tattoo. Just as he was about to touch it, the ball zoomed to the right and disappeared underneath the waistband of her jeans.

Hermione laughed as Harry cried "Bugger!" Her mirth was interrupted by his mouth on hers again. He trailed his hands down the sides of her breasts and rested on her bum. Without breaking contact, he grabbed onto her arse and stood. She gasped when she felt herself leaving the sofa and instinctively hooked her legs around his waist. She needn't worry as Harry carefully maneuvered around her coffee table and carried her into her bedroom.

"Careful of the boxes," she said against his lips. He nodded and vigilantly carried her onto the bed without tripping over anything. Her sheets felt cool on her back after he laid her down.

He covered her body with his and whispered into her ear. "You're beautiful, Hermione," he said. His hands trailed down her sides again, teasing and barely touching where she needed him to touch her, until they rested on her jeans. He made quick work of the closure and extracted her slender legs from the constricting material.

His breath hitched as he looked at her. She was beautiful and perfect and utterly mesmerizing. There were freckles on her skin which he didn't fully see from before and he longed to kiss every single one of them. Her milky skin glowed from the lamplight next to her bed. And that damned Snitch was resting on her hip above her knickers. His hand moved to touch it but he was knocked onto his back by Hermione.

She straddled him again, both legs on either side of his waist. He scooted up her bed so his back was resting against the headboard. The friction of his jeans against the thin material of her knickers were causing her to lose her mind, but she had her own agenda. She needed to know where the fire led! She kissed him as her fingers made work of the buttons of his shirt.

"Do you know that I love your tattoos?" She asked. She was disappointed to see that he was wearing a plain white undershirt when she removed the green button up.

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked with a smile. Hermione nodded. She brought his left hand to her mouth and kissed the illustration of the lily and the owl. Then she kissed the Firebolt on his index finger. She repeated the same with his right hand, her lips touching his pulsepoint as she kissed the timeturner and otter, as she kissed  _her_ tattoo. She got off his lap and urged him to stand at the side of the bed facing her. She got on her knees and ran her hand down his right arm. She pushed the sleeve of his t-shirt up and kissed the tattoo of the Marauders. And then she turned to the circle of fire on his left bicep. She pushed that sleeve up too as she curiously examined it closer than she had before.

"Yes, and this one has been keeping me up at night," she said and touched the fire. His eyes, already hazy from her ministrations, darkened at her words. "I've been wondering where the fire leads."

He took her chin with his right hand and kissed her. "Why don't you find out, Hermione?"

She nodded. She grasped the hem of his t-shirt and in one motion lifted it over his head. She gasped at the sight. "Oh, my," she breathed.

It was a phoenix rising. The circle of fire was one of the bird's plumes and more of its feathers were etched further up his shoulder. The firebird's body was placed at the centre left of his chest and its graceful neck was extended upwards to the sky. Firey wings were curved in a graceful arch on either side of the bird as it took flight, and one of its wings tickled Harry's collarbone. Long tailfeathers of flame extended past the bird's talons and disappeared below Harry's hips.

It was rebirth. It was hope. It was the triumph over evil and over death. It was perfection.

The tattoo was so beautiful and captivating and Hermione itched to touched it. So she did. She started on his bicep, on the circle of fire which started the flame of curiosity within her. She kissed it. She followed it to the phoenix's outstretched wings and kissed that too. She felt him take a staggering breath and his chest rose as her fingers skimmed his skin. He was perfection. The muscles of his pectorals tensed beneath her touch but she continued studying the fire. It was such an exquisite tattoo. The bird's face was serene with its eyes closed. Its neck was covered with firey feathers displayed in full as the bird looked upwards, each of them so meticulously drawn on his skin. The bird's hindquarters were tensed, its sharp talons raised. From behind the bird emerged an inferno of long tailfeathers, extending way past its talons with the longer plumes disappearing below Harry's belt. Hermione traced a finger down the bird's body, over one feather, until she was stopped by the waistband of his trousers.

Suddenly she was flat on her back again with both of her hands pinned above her head. "You drive me crazy," Harry whispered.

She laughed. "Likewise," she said in response.

He growled in return and attacked her neck with kisses. The stubble of his jaw scratched her skin as he rained kisses down her throat, past her collarbone, and between the valley of her breasts. She gasped when he took one of her hard nipples in his mouth and sucked while keeping the other occupied with his hand. He switched and gave the other nipple the same attention with his mouth. Down he kissed her body, now so consumed with the woman beneath him that he took no notice when the magical Snitch zoomed quickly from the path of his hands to hide behind Hermione.

He got to the waistband of her knickers and slowly tugged them down her hips. He groaned when she was finally fully in the nude below him. He wasted no time at all and brought his lips to taste her right at her core.

Hermione's head fell back and her eyes closed. "Oh Harry," she moaned. Her grip on Harry's hair was strong as he pleasured her with his tongue. His hands were stroking the creaminess of her thigh as he brought her closer and closer to her pleasure. One finger neared his mouth and went inside her. Her long, drawn out moan was his encouragement to move his digit to stroke her inner walls as his lips and tongue teased the outside of her sex. He added another finger and started to pump his hand. He found her nub with his tongue and latched onto it with his lips. He sucked on her bundle of nerves and felt her fall over the edge.

"Harry!" She screamed. Her legs thrashed on either side of him as he brought her to orgasm. He felt her squeeze around his fingers and he didn't stop his ministrations. His tongue and lips continued to suck her as he tasted her juices. When he felt her begin to come down from the high, he eased his fingers from inside her and gently kissed her centre. He slithered up her body and took her ear in his mouth. He was so hard and his jeans were so constricting. He didn't know if he could last any longer and he sure as hell didn't want to cum inside his pants.

"I  _need_  you, Hermione," he said into her ear, his voice strained.

She flipped them over and straddled him once again. Harry had to calm his breath as he looked up at her. This  _siren_  was making him lose his mind. Her hair was a tumble of curls framing her face as she looked at him from above. Her brown eyes were shining, her plump lips in a small smile as she wondered what she would do to him. There was no shyness in her now. No, she was all woman. She trailed a finger down his cheek, traced his lips, and down his throat. She followed her digit with kisses of her own. She tasted herself on his lips and moaned. She took his bottom lip into her mouth and sucked. He groaned against her and his hands tightened their hold of her hips. She kissed down his throat and to his hard chest. She visited the phoenix with more kisses and used her tongue to trace one of its plumes.

"Hermione," he groaned. "You're killing me, sweetheart."

"Shh," she said and smiled against his skin. "I need to know where the fire leads, Harry."

Her hand fumbled with the closure of his trousers. But since she didn't want to hop of his lap to remove his clothing, and because she  _was_  a witch after all, she reached to her nightstand and grabbed her wand. A small wave and a whisper of a spell disappeared the rest of his clothing.

"Shit, Hermione," he breathed. She giggled and leaned back to look at him fully naked. The bird's tailfeathers extended to just past his Adonis belt to the top of his left leg. She followed its path with her fingers, going lower and lower down his body until her hand was stroking his inner thigh. She looked at his manhood, marvelling at its length and girth. It was fully hard and he took a shaking breath when her hand closed around it.

Slowly she moved her hand along its shaft, testing the length and firmness. Her other hand joined her ministrations to stroke his testicles. Hermione tested different strengths for her grip on his hardness until Harry's larger hand covered hers and showed her exactly how he liked to be stroked. Her breasts were heaving as they worked him together. It was the most erotic sight Hermione had ever seen. Harry, with his eyes closed and lips parted, his hard chest rising up and down as he took shaky breaths, his muscular arm flexing with every movement of the hand covering hers as they pumped his cock.

Hermione wanted  _more_  though. She wanted to taste him as well. She lifted her arse from resting on his lower legs and got on her knees. She scooted further down his legs and got on all fours. With one hand she removed his hand from his cock. He opened his eyes just in time for him to see her give a sly grin before bending down and taking him into her mouth.

"Fuck!" He yelled. Harry knew he would never, ever forget this sight. There was Hermione on her knees, pleasuring him with her mouth, her bum was in the air and Harry saw the damn Golden Snitch hovering just above the right side of her arse.

His hands fisted in her curls as she worked him. Her tongue licked his shaft from top to base. She took as much as she could into her mouth again and sucked. Her head bobbed up and down and Harry could feel the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat. He was so close,  _so close_ , but he wouldn't cum in her mouth for the first time he made love to her.

With swift movements of his body, Harry stopped Hermione. She yelped when she felt herself being lifted from her position before the bed was to her back again and his body was on top of hers. He settled himself in between her legs, the head of his manhood brushing against her entrance. He gently traced a finger around her lower lips and groaned. She was  _so_  wet for him.

"Are you ready, Hermione?" He asked in a whisper. She nodded and kissed him. "And we're safe?" She smiled and grabbed hold of his hair again.

She brought his ear to her lips and nipped. She whispered her response. "Yes, Harry. Now please,  _fuck me_."

Like a wild man, Harry roared and buried his cock deep inside her. Hermione gasped when she felt his penetration and locked her legs around his hips. They stilled for a moment, both getting used to their new-found joining.

Harry's forehead fell onto hers. She was so wet, so tight, so damn perfect. She was so responsive to his touches and caresses. He smiled when he felt her already starting to move under him.

Hermione scraped her nails down his back, trying to draw him closer to her. This was bliss. This was heaven. Being with Harry and making love with Harry was so much better than she had ever imagined. They fit each other so well, both so attuned to each other's needs. She kissed his cheek and moved her hips against his.

He set their pace. He moved slowly at first, enjoying the feel of her tightness around him, relishing at how her sex squeezed his cock. He ran his palm down her right side and grabbed her arse. He hitched her legs further up his waist and hovered over her on his knees. He moved faster now, his strong hips driving his hardness into her warmth over and over again. He looked at her and saw her wanton figure on the sheets below him. Her eyes were squeezed tight, gasps of pleasure erupted from her parted lips, and her hands were clenching the sheets on her bed. Her skin was glistening with sweat as she pleaded with him to move faster, deeper, and harder.

"Yes, oh yes, Harry," she moaned.

Her cries of pleasure was the only encouragement he needed. With his control deteriorating fast, Harry drove into her with hard, powerful thrusts.

"Harry!" She screamed her release.

He moaned her name as he followed her over the edge. The feel of her sex squeezing him tight as she orgasmed was just too much for Harry. With one last thrust, he erupted in his passion and came.

They laid there spent. Their bodies were heaving as they took calming breaths in, their hearts beating fiercely inside their chests. Harry was careful and tried not to crush Hermione though she really didn't mind - and in fact,  _really liked_  - the feeling of his full weight on top of hers. Her mouth seeked his and tenderly they kissed.

"That was…  _wow_ ," Hermione whispered. She felt Harry's body shaking on top of hers and she saw him grinning at her in laughter.

"Yes, it was," he replied. He played with a curl and he looked at her contemplatively. "But I've yet to catch the Snitch."

His lips curved into a sly smile and the Seeker resumed playing Quidditch.

* * *

Harry and Hermione made love to each other twice more before they finally stopped. It was like they couldn't get enough of each other. They were utterly insatiable for this new feeling of closeness and intimacy. They only stopped when they realized it was late afternoon and they haven't eaten anything yet. Their plans to go out for Hermione's birthday were, suffice to say, cancelled. They ordered pizza (a perk of living in a Muggle community) and chatted over their food as they ate on her kitchen island. Hermione was dressed in Harry's green shirt since her camisole was lost somewhere in the living room. Harry threw his jeans back on (since he did need to answer the door for the pizza) but left the closures undone.

As Hermione took a bite of the pepperoni and mushroom pizza, she eyed Harry who was rummaging through her kitchen cupboards looking for hot sauce. She didn't hear his question since she was so captivated by the striations of his back muscles as he opened and closed the shelves above the kitchen counters. She also noticed a tattoo she had never seen even when they were in bed.

Behind his right shoulder was another tattoo, this one more simple than the rest on his body. It had no shading, just lines and curves. It looked almost like a sparkline or a line graph, most of it just one clean line rising, dropping, or levelling as it spanned his shoulder. Hermione didn't need to look long to decipher what it was. The three small vertical lines with circles above them in the illustration were telling. It was an outline of Hogwarts complete with the three Quidditch hoops.

"Hermione," Harry said again, pulling her out of her reverie. "Did you hear what I asked?"

She blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry, no. Did you need anything, Harry?"

He smiled at her and shook his head. "Nevermind," he said. He approached her and sat on the stool next to her. He placed his hand on her knee and took a bite of the pizza slice she was eating. "You seem distracted," he said.

She gave a small smile. "I just couldn't believe I missed seeing the tattoo on your right shoulder. It's Hogwarts, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Yes it is. And don't worry, you were distracted then too."

Red spread across the skin of her cheeks and down her neck as she blushed. Harry finished eating the pizza she was holding onto and closed the pizza box. He moved it to the counter. He enveloped Hermione's waist with his arms and hoisted her above the marble island.

He grinned. "I think I want my dessert now, please."

Harry proceeded to make Hermione his.

* * *

After their kitchen tryst, Harry and Hermione retreated to the living room. They sat side-by-side on the sofa, their feet propped on top of the coffee table, and with Hermione's head on his shoulder. This time, they just talked.

Hermione told Harry when and how she realized she loved him. She recounted the night of hers and Lukas' break-up which was something she hadn't told him before. He was so angry at Lukas for how he broke up with her but Hermione assured him it was all fine. It was her ex's words which triggered the questioning in her head. What was it that she really wanted? She told Harry that the answer to the question came to her after she woke up from being cursed. She told him that as she saw his sleeping form when he kept her company throughout the night did the answer materialize in her head. It was  _him_  all along. It was he whom she wanted and loved so much. And Hermione told him that this realization of hers didn't really shock her either. She had always loved him.

She was squeezed into a one-armed embrace as Harry told his tale of how  _he_  realized he loved her. The Incident was the catalyst, for it was what knocked him to his senses that he couldn't live without her. But like her, he said that it didn't surprise him either. He had always loved her, he was just too thick to know it until she was almost wrenched from his life.

"Oh Harry," Hermione whispered and tears pooled at the corner of her eyes.

"Hey now, don't cry," Harry said, turning to her to brush away the tears which spilled. "I love you and you love me. This isn't a crying matter Hermione."

She snorted through her tears and swatted his arm. "They're  _happy_  tears, you bugger."

He winked at her. "I know. I'm happy too."

He lifted her onto his lap and wound his arms around her waist. Softly and sweetly he kissed her lips. She sighed against his mouth and melted into his touch. Her hands grabbed hold of his face as she kept his head levelled with hers.

They looked at each other, emerald eyes meeting her chocolate orbs. There was so much love, so much passion, so much joy and happiness in them. No words needed to be said but they couldn't help it. Saying those words felt so  _freeing_.

"I love you, Harry," Hermione said softly. Her eyes were tender as she stroked his cheek.

Harry smiled. "I love you too," he said. His head moved closer to hers so their lips were just a whisper apart. "And I will  _never_  stop."

He kissed her and sealed his promise.

* * *

Much later that evening as Hermione laid curled at his side, she reminisced over the events of the past two days. Harry was already sound asleep, no doubt spent from all of the lovemaking they had done that day. The man had so much stamina, it was really quite impressive! He took her again in the living room after they talked. Afterwards when she wanted to shower, he followed her into the bathroom and made love to her in the shower  _and_  in the tub. Hermione blushed as she recalled how he pressed her body to the window and took her from behind. She could still remember how good the glass felt against her breasts and she felt exhilarated as she looked over London as Harry played her body like a harp. She screamed her climax as she watched the sunset. It was an experience she already couldn't wait to replicate.

She wasn't able to call Megan that day (she was too busy with, well,  _Harry_ ) so she made a note to call her tomorrow instead. Not to ask about the events of the previous night (they all came rushing back to her when she saw her tattoo), but to tell her of his and Harry's new  _developments_. She added the rest of the girls on her list of people to call as well. Maybe she should suggest they go out for lunch so she could tell them all at once. They would love to hear about it for sure, and Hermione could almost picture their stunned faces when she tells them that she and Harry are  _together_.

What did this make the two of them? Was he her boyfriend now? She felt that didn't quite hit the mark. Lovers? That one sounded too risqué. Would they be partners? Significant others?

Hermione looked at Harry's sleeping form and sighed. God, how she loved this man so much. She gently stroked his chest and his arms instinctively tightened around her waist. He murmured her name and drew her closer in his sleep.

They would just be Harry and Hermione.

It was what they had always been.

It was what they were now.

And it was what they would be for the years to come.

Harry  _and_  Hermione.

As Hermione drifted to sleep a single thought flew to mind which made her smile.

Perhaps she didn't need to kill Ginny after all.

* * *

Fin.


End file.
